Tip of My Tongue
by moonupabove
Summary: Kevin Price looks back and reflects on his relationship with McKinley.
1. First Kiss

I can't quite put my finger on it. I feel sort of guilty because of that, like there's something I'm missing or not attending to. Then again, I don't think you're supposed to know exactly what it is that makes you love someone. If that's the case, I'm doing alright.

I think it started after I woke up from the Dream in Uganda. He was kneeling next to me, hovering, trying to call me back to reality. I still think back every so often to that moment; his blue, blue eyes searching for anything that would tell him I was alright. It was, as cliche as it sounds, like was staring straight into my soul. That was when he plucked the first string.

I'd never thought I was gay. To be honest, I still don't know if I am. I just know I love him. Before, I had always just assumed I was straight. I'd never felt much of anything for anyone, honestly. Arnold taught me how to care for someone, Naba how to have compassion, and Connor how to love.

Not that he was an expert himself. The first weeks, even the first couple months of our relationship abounded with stutters and averted eyes and blushing. He used to ask my permission before kissing me. (Once he asked if he could hold my hand. I didn't know if I should laugh or burst into tears over how cute it was. I ended up doing the former, thankfully.) Heavenly Father knows how long it took before he wouldn't shy away from me when other people were around.

Confession: I thought Mckinley was a complete basket case when I first met him. I mean, he was (and is) a nice, All-American wide-eyed hopeful Mormon boy, don't get me wrong. It was just so painfully obvious how uncomfortable he was in his own skin. Nobody else seemed to notice because he put on that bright damned smile all the time. (That being said, I thought that smile was gorgeous. I almost died when I got a glimpse of a real one for the first time.)

That's how this started. I noticed. I should explain, I'm a light sleeper. I've been woken up by flies bouncing off the windows at night. Even so, it blew my mind that no one seemed to hear Mckinley at night, smothering whimpers and waking with startled shrieks.

Initially it surprised me, anyways. They'd all just learned to sleep through it, like it was white noise. Good Lord, my baby's suffering was white noise.

The first night I checked on him is what I think of at It. (Connor agrees.) I waited in bed for his breathing to calm before getting up and walking to his room on the other side of the hall. As soon as I opened their door, he scrambled to wipe his face and catch his breath and greet me with that damned smile.

"Can I hell-help you, Elder Price? I hope everything is alright."

"I'm okay. I actually came to check on you."

He snuffled a moment.

"Everything is fine here, Elder."

"I thought you didn't lie."

He tried to act offended.

"Are you accusing me of lying?"

"Well, it doesn't seem like you're telling the whole truth."

He glanced at his sleeping companion, then back at me. There was a gleam in his eyes, either from tears or vulnerability or both.

"Not here. I'll just-I'll just meet you downstairs in little bit. Alright?"

I nodded and closed the door. I went back to my room and put on trousers and some cotton shirt reserved for days off and headed down to the living room. I was alone on the couch for a minute before Connor arrived. He'd slipped on pants as well. Knowing him, I was surprised he hadn't changed into his entire uniform.

We just sort of looked each other over for a moment. He sighed and sat down next to me, rubbing his forehead.

"I'm so tired, my apologies."

"It's alright. I don't see much for you to apologize for."

He chuckled under his breath.

"I've plenty to be sorry for, Elder."

I paused.

"You can call me Kevin, if you want. It's just the two of us. I call Elder Cunningham Arnold, after all."

He opened his mouth, shaping my name on his lips like he was tasting it. "Kevin. It sounds nice. Suits you."

I smiled. "It'd be nice to know your name too, Elder Mckinley."

He seemed like the thought had never crossed his mind. "Oh, my name? It's, uh, Connor. I'm Connor."

We exchanged some simple conversation for a quarter hour or so, interjecting our names whenever even remotely appropriate. It dwindled into comfortable but heavy silence. I cleared my throat and asked why he'd been crying.

"I wasn't crying."

I gave him a skeptical glance. He wasn't looking at me anymore.

"I wasn't."

"I think first name basis means you can trust me, Connor."

"Then you should trust me. I wasn't crying."

"I should get my eyes checked, then."

He tried to laugh. Tried.

"Perhaps."

"But actually-"

"For goodness' sake, Kevin, stop."

I was taken aback at his tone. I doubted if he'd ever snapped at someone in his life. He noticed and made apology after apology until I had to put my hand over his mouth to get him to shut up. His breath hitched in a somewhat enticing way. I wish I had noticed.

"We don't have to talk about it if you really don't want to."

He looked like he felt guilty. I took my hand away from his face. I felt the need to elaborate.

"Just, you know, feel free to wake me up if you want to come down here and talk, okay? Arnold's a pretty heavy sleeper."

Connor sighed and said he would keep that in mind. He wouldn't take me up on my offer for three weeks. During that period, I still awoke to sounds of his distress. I waited. I hesitantly went back to sleep.

One night, the It night, he sounded bad. Really bad. I sat straight up in bed when I heard his footsteps in the hallway. Our door creaked open and I could barely make Connor out in the dark.

"Kevin?"

God, he sounded so tired. I climbed off my mattress and walked with him downstairs. I couldn't get myself to look at him until we sat down. He was blatantly shaking and seemed to have trouble making eye contact with me too.

"Do you want to talk?"

He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again.

"In a little bit."

I nodded and waited while I watched him breathe and calm down. I put an arm around his shoulders, which he shrugged off after a few seconds. I remember smiling at that, for whatever reason.

"I want to make sure you're okay is all," I explained. "I won't yell at you or anything."

He snorted. "Good to know."

He sat back, resting his head against the couch to analyze the ceiling.

"It's just a nightly thing, you know. I'm not much for explaining it. It's not that big of a deal."

"I disagree. It's so obviously affecting you, Connor."

He sighed heavily. "It's getting harder to fix myself."

"Sorry to say, I don't see anything that needs fixing."

He gave me a furtive glance. Even in the dark, his eyes were crystal blue. "I'm gay, Kevin. I know I am. I've spent the last ten years trying to fix that and I can't do it."

I was astounded by a couple of things. One, that he thought none of us knew he was gay. I mean, transparent closet much, good Lord. The other part was that he thought I didn't know he was trying to "fix it." He didn't do a great job of disguising it, what with the whole chorus-line number.

He continued. "That's what the dreams are from, Kevin. I've been damned since birth."

I shook my head. "No, Connor, no. That's not what the dreams are from. You're repressing yourself, making yourself out to be guilty. Once you accept yourself, I think you'll be okay." I beamed at him. "Okay?"

He narrowed his eyes in my direction. "Weren't you the one who told me not to act on gay thoughts?"

"I wasn't exactly a great person back then, Connor."

He rolled his eyes, but laughed nonetheless. I felt my heart swell a tad.

"A whole month ago, yep. That's plenty of time for a complete change," I affirmed.

"It would seem so."

Something like a wall had been torn down between us. I let silence take over. I tried putting my arm around him again, which he flinched initially at but didn't push away. He seemed to be dozing off, and I let him lay his head on my shoulder.

"What do you dream about?"

I didn't mean to ask it. I regretted it immediately at the time.

"Fire and brimstone like everyone else, usually."

"Usually?"

His breathing lulled. I thought he had fallen asleep until he answered again.

"Sometimes it's my family. They'll be angry or disappointed or homicidal or any combination of those. Sometimes it's Steve telling me how disgusting it all is. Or demons will take advantage of me in some - some sinful way."

He had tensed up again. I contemplated pulling away, but tightened my grip on his shoulder instead.

"I'm sorry. That sounds really stupid, but I am. That's terrible, Connor."

"It's not your fault."

"You don't deserve this."

That struck a chord. He twisted in my grip to stare at me, dumbstruck. There were tears in his eyes. Connor Mckinley did not cry in front of people. Never. Even now, now that's he's become so open and trusting, it's as rare as snow in Orlando.

I just returned his gaze. "You don't."

He tried to say something, but his voice broke and I found myself cradling his head against my chest and spewing some comforting phrases to him. He shuddered, stifling sobs that racked his frame. We only sat there like that for a couple of minutes. Connor calmed down (too quickly for my liking, if I'm honest) and issued an apology and a thank you.

"I wish you'd stop apologizing for things you don't need to."

"It's kind of a habit."

I wanted to cry.

"It's a habit we'll have to break, then."

I could feel him regarding me from the corners of his eyes. My arm was still wrapped around him, but it had slid down over his back. The touch had a sliver of intimacy in it that he must have sensed. I was relieved he didn't pull away.

"Maybe we could try to make each other happy," I ventured. "We can be there for each other in whatever way we need it, you know?"

I could feel him smile. He had leaned up into my shoulder again. "Continue."

"I mean, I really care about you."

"Nice to hear, considering I care about you as well."

"Arnold and I didn't exactly make things easier for you guys."

He shook his head. "Not at first, no. But there's something magnetic about you."

My heart fluttered. I hoped he couldn't feel it.

"You've really kept us together, Connor."

"It's sort of my job."

I laughed. (Harder than was appropriate, maybe.) "Then you've done it well. Everyone here loves you."

Cheek still pressed against my arm, he shifted to ogle at me. Subtlety is still not his strong point. "Everyone?"

"I meant what I said." I nuzzled his hair. He didn't object. "Mormons don't lie."

He bit his lip to hide a blooming grin. I lifted a hand and brushed his face, centimeters from his mouth. "Hey, I like it when you smile. C'mon."

His smile expanded. It was so bright and genuine and I'll be damned if my chest didn't nearly collapse in on itself. He glanced up at me, as if for approval, and kissed the knuckles of my fingers. The touch was soft, gentle and electric. I palmed his cheek and brought his mouth to meet mine. Mckinley froze for only a second, then took my other hand in his. He told me later that he was still afraid I would yell at him or something.

Obviously, I didn't.


	2. First Fight

Like I said before, the early part of our relationship was mostly learning. For Connor, it was learning how to accept himself and trust someone else, whether it be physically or emotionally or what have you. I had to learn about what loving someone meant. I mean, it isn't just holding hands and having sex. There's a lot of confessing and talking and listening, and a lot of silence, too.

Connor, by nature, is not a combative person. He can be stern when he needs to be, but despises conflict. This has its pros and cons. For one, it makes for a peaceful atmosphere most of the time. It can also mean that things that need confronting are not confronted. This factor would be the fodder for our first "fight."

We've been very lucky. Connor and I are pretty different, but any disagreements we have are healthy, normal, and usually turn into loving debates. Fights, like this one, never get too intense or to the point where they make one of us question our relationship. I hope this doesn't change.

A month or two after we were excommunicated, the Church started sending requests for us to come home and listen to our families scold us. They wanted their district back and their funds replenished. The rest of us were having none of it, of course, and ignored any and all letters from the Church of Latter-Day Saints. Soon enough, they sent a representative to speak to us in person. They couldn't have sent a more intimidating guy. He explained how they could get our families to pay for our expenses, creating either bitterness, further disappointment, or damage to our family wellbeing. Connor spoke up to ask about other options. As soon as he started talking, the representative gave him this knowing, disgusted glance and Connor went quiet immediately. Connor nodded and said he'd tell the boys to pack. The man left.

I was furious. One, for how the representative crushed Connor with a look, and two for how easily Connor had given up. I explained the situation to the rest of the Elders. Church and Poptarts were adamant about staying and promised to help me talk to Connor. Michaels and Zelder both admitted they wouldn't mind going home, and Schrader was nervous about how the Church would treat his family.

My mistake was scolding Connor right off the bat without talking it through with him.

"What was that? At the meeting?"

Connor didn't look at me. He was sitting at his desk, rubbing his forehead with his left hand. "You shouldn't have been there."

"I can't believe you're willing to give up like that!"

He glanced up at me. "They're threatening our relationships with our families, Kevin. I don't see any other way."

"We could fund ourselves. We get most of our food for free from the village, anyways. We can work with the Red Cross."

He shook his head. "They want their property back, too. I don't want this to get out of hand."

"You can't just throw everything we've worked for away."

His eyes narrowed. "That's the last thing I want to do. Don't make me the bad guy."

I paused. "You're afraid they'll tell your family."

He stood up abruptly and spoke just short of a yell. "Of course I'm afraid they'll tell my family! You saw the way that guy looked at me. Gosh, if it's that obvious, my family might as well already know."

Connor sat back down and roughly ran his hands through his auburn hair.

"Maybe they do. Con, you should write to them. Out yourself before the Church can. Tell the Church to mind its own business and that we can take care of ourselves if it's such a burden. Stand up for us. Stand up for yourself for once."

He looked hurt. "Only if you write your family and tell them about us."

A condition. I nodded and left. I may have shut the door harder than intended.

That night was the only time I didn't meet Connor downstairs. I didn't sleep and didn't hear him get up. Arnold asked if something was wrong. I told him I'd wait and see. I'd written the letter to my family before I went to bed and mailed it immediately the next morning before I could chicken out. I passed Connor on my way back inside the house. He looked anxious and ashamed. I felt bad, but I refused to show it. Meanwhile, Michaels was now on the Staying Party, and Zelder seemed less sure about succumbing to LDS wishes. Schrader had talked with Church and was less worried.

The letter with my family's response came sooner than I anticipated. I held it in my hands for a minute or two, alone in my room, then opened the envelope. They were okay with it. Praise Christ, they were okay with it. I was so stunned after the first paragraph that I had to put my head in my hands and make sure I was awake. They said it would take adjustment of their thinking, and they were still displeased about the excommunication, but I'm their son and as long as I'm happy, they are. They would support us in our effort to become independent.

Connor did his part. Soon enough, the Church letters stopped coming. We received no more calls or visits. Our funding stopped as well, but that surprised none of us. Our families all reported they weren't under pressure anymore. District Nine became a fully functioning, independent station. In the meantime, my meetings with Connor downstairs were quiet and heavy. I felt pretty smug, to be honest. I'd catalyzed the success of this, after all.

That's what my thinking was until the night he brought me his family's letter. They were not pleased, to put it gently. He'd been disowned. Connor wouldn't look at me while I read it. There were stains on the letter that I figured were either his or his parent's tears. I assumed the former. I tore up the letter and pulled Connor into my arms, where he apologized for being stubborn and waiting so long. I told him that I was sorry about his family and for being so brash after the representative meeting. There was a lull where we sat in silence, entangled and relieved.

We figured out our first conflict had ended up bringing us closer. I became more sympathetic and he became more confident and constructive. He was tender about the topic of family for a while. No one seemed to mind, and they were careful about talking about theirs should Connor be in earshot.

Naba was overjoyed about the news. Arnold explained nothing had really changed, but she implored that the District was closer to the village now. Mafala and Connor had a chat about how the District would stay fed. Mafala waived the prospect of any extra work on our part being done. As long as we kept the village happy and hopeful, we were good as gold. Connor thanked him profusely and almost skipped home. I'm amazed his family had no idea.


	3. First Time

As Connor steadily adjusted with accepting his sexuality, the physical aspect of our relationship grew. He got out of the habit of asking me for direct permission before touching me in any way. Nights where we spent more time making out than talking became more and more frequent, and Heavenly Father knows how hard it was to wind down. The two of us had nearly been caught doing things as simple as holding hands. Especially in a country where it's punishable by law, we really had to set a lot of boundaries we didn't want to.

I started dropping more hints about how much I wanted him, and he certainly reciprocated. Both of us, him in particular, had been so sexually repressed by the LDS Church that now that we had someone in a position where physicality would be appropriate, it was getting painstakingly hard to keep our hands off of each other.

What we needed was a safe haven. We needed somewhere to feel secure and alone together. Places like that aren't exactly abundant in Uganda, but we tried to ask around. Naba was the first person we went to, and turned out to be the only person we needed to. She was very understanding and sweet, and not at all surprised when we told her about our relationship. (Which made me wonder if anyone else knew.)

Naba told us there's a few man-made ditches about half a mile out of the village, constructed a few years ago in case of emergency. One of them, she says, has been carefully maintained and kept clean, while the other two fell victim to wildlife or disaster. She said the villagers rarely wander around there, since bad memories of warlord invasions and dust storms are what the holes are associated with. Needless to say, I couldn't believe our luck. Connor thanked her profusely. She slipped me a condom and something akin to lube before I could head out her door. I'm assuming they're both from her stash, but I'm definitely not going to spend too long thinking about her and Arnold's romantic life. (Terrible as it sounds, I still surprise myself whenever I remember he lost his virginity before I lost mine.)

We waited about an hour after lights out to make sure everyone was asleep, or at least drowsy enough to ignore any noises we made on our way out. He locked the door behind us and took my hand, and we made our way silently to the dug out according to Naba's directions. After walking for about a quarter of an hour, we stumbled upon a tightly woven hatch in the ground, which I lifted open. I helped Connor down the five rungs or so to the floor below. It was layered with padding and quilts, clean and pressed and probably put down by Naba earlier today. (Such a sweetheart.) In the corner were some wooden crates that must've contained supplies for the dug outs' actual purpose. A rusty oil lamp sat on top of one of them and cast a glow just bright enough for us to see each other.

We kicked off our shoes and set our ties and belts and other needless attire off to the side, leaving us sitting cross legged across from each other in our undergarments, and unsure of where to go from there. He fidgeted and bit his lip, both obvious signals of discomfort. I had to say something, anything to talk him down.

"At least it's not too warm down here," I started.

He nodded and smiled softly. "It might get cold later, who knows."

I had started a weather conversation. Not foreplay material. I tried again.

I tried to grin coyly. "We'll have an excuse to cuddle then."

He smirked at that. "Would we need an excuse anyways?"

Chuckling, I leaned up into his face and gently brushed our noses. "Fair point."

His breath hitched, our lips met, and the floodgates opened. I cupped his cheek in one hand and pressed the other one to the ground just past his hip. He reached up behind my back to lay his hands on my shoulders, all the while only breaking away from my mouth to catch the smallest of breaths. His hands started to move and suddenly his touch was all over me and he was the only thing I could taste or comprehend. Every want I had turned into a need.

I felt him tug at the bottom of my garment shirt and guided his hands to pull it up over my head. His hands flitted over my chest, my arms, my stomach, all eager and begging. Our lips kept brushing, and somewhere along the way tongue got involved and I was deep in his mouth. His groans vibrated against my lips and I held him close by the back of his neck. My bottoms were off before I could notice. I'll never get over how good he is with his hands.

He pressed urgent, quick kisses up and down the arch of my neck. I made a few attempts to get him undressed without disrupting the flow of things, but eventually he caught on and stopped and let me fumble his clothes off. He went immediately back to sucking a corner of my collarbone. I felt our groins brush and we both shivered and whined. The overwhelming sensation of skin on skin was intoxicating.

"Connor, wait," I giggled a little and steadied him a few inches away from me. His eyes were glazed over and his pupils were dilated, and it might have been the hottest thing I'd ever seen. "Let's figure something out quick, okay?"

He looked genuinely confused. "Okay?"

I figured out at that point that stopping everything was a mistake. "One of us should top, I think."

"Oh, that's kind of important." He laughed nervously and rubbed his thumb over my shoulder, waiting for me to continue. I didn't know what to say, so I sat thinking and ended up letting him work himself into an anxious and horny mess, which isn't a great combination. He'd started rubbing my shoulder so fast it was getting warm.

"You're going to a burn a hole through my skin, Con," I took his hand off of my shoulder and held it in mine.

"Sorry, I'm just-nervous, is all." He squeezed my hand and I kissed him as gently as I could manage.

"You're fine. This'll be fine, okay? We're just figuring it out."

He chuckled under his breath. "We may as well just flip a coin, with how decisive we've been tonight."

"Oh, perfect!" I crawled over to where my pants lay and dug out some spare coins, along with Naba's gifts, and went back over to Connor. He looked nothing short of befuddled. He saw the coin and gave me a look.

"It'll get us where we're going, okay, just pick a side."

"I'll take tails, which means you're heads."

"Shouldn't that just sort this out?" I joked, mostly to cool my own nerves.

He gave me a look of mock distaste. "You're not funny."

I balanced the coin on my thumb and flicked it. Catching it, I slapped it down onto my wrist and pulled my hand away to reveal tails.

A vivid, burning blush creeped over Connor's skin. I tilted his chin and kissed his cheeks and lips a few times.

"How do you, uh, want to go about this?" I stroked the back of his neck and prepared to roll over. He shook his head, skin still ruddy and flushed.

"I want to be able to see you."

"Oh." That was the only response I could muster. I felt a little relieved as he laid me back on the blankets, holding me under my back while he placed tentative, open-mouthed kisses all over my chest and neck. I reached around for the condom and slipped it to Connor, who fumbled with the wrapper a few moments before successfully rolling it on. He moaned quietly when I made the effort to lube him up myself. With all the nerves that must have been racking his system, I wouldn't have put it past him to forget.

He broke away from the kisses and just looked at me for a moment. His eyes were so piercing I almost looked away. "Are you alright?"

I nodded. He kissed the side of my mouth and slowly pressed into me. It was a dull, uncomfortable pinch, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders to try and ride it out.

There was a sudden, sharp shock of pain and I stifled a grunt. Even then I knew that it shouldn't hurt that much. A few bad memories rushed by, memories where I'd felt that pain before.

"Wait wait wait wait wait-" My eyes snapped open and I pressed a hand to Connor's chest. "The Book thing, I forgot about the Book-"

He stopped all motion immediately and looked up at me, wide-eyed. "D-do you want to switch?"

I hesitated and squeezed my eyes shut. "No-no, just be gentle."

That's never been hard for him in any area of his life, especially not in matters of the flesh.

He stroked me slowly and gave lingering kisses. I managed to open my eyes and look at him every few moments, catching glimpses of loving stares and trembling lips.

"_Kevin_."

I'd never heard anyone say my name like that. He whimpered it almost directly in my ear as he slowly worked in and out, finally crumbling to the ecstasy he must have been in. It sent shivers down my spine and made my back arch and fuck I wanted to hear it again. I gradually started bobbing along with him and I laced my fingers through his hair. We finally moved just right with each other, and I cried out at the most intense pulse of pleasure I'd ever experienced. Connor, slipping momentarily into Mother McKinley mode, stuttered to a halt and reached up to hold my face.

"Did I hurt you?"

I made a noise of dissent and tightened my hold on his hair. A sharp tug at the base of his skull earned a low, short groan. We both like our hair pulled. I sat myself up to suck at the juncture of his neck, moving up and finding a sweet spot just behind his right ear. He whimpered, bucked his hips and pulled my legs up around him. His thrusts got deeper and more precise. Our moans and cries of each other's names increased in volume to the extent that I was afraid someone outside would hear us.

Heat was building up in my hips and simmering the rest of my body, and I could hear myself begging for anything, something I couldn't name, to relieve the tension. The only sounds I cared about were the ones coming from his throat and our slick skin. Connor touched me just the right way again and I teetered over the edge. I pressed myself up against him and stuttered out some semblance of his name, and he clung to me tightly as his thrusts lost their rhythm and deeper groans ripped from his throat. I laid back feeling sated and blissful.

Connor laid himself gently on top of me while he caught his breath. I stroked his hair and kissed his forehead, trying to wordlessly affirm how incredible and beautiful he is. We spent a minute or two like that before he rolled off to lay facing me, an arm draped over my waist and the other tucked under his head.

"Wow."

I laughed and shifted closer to him. "That was fun."

He blinked. "We just lost our virginities."

Nodding, I tried not to laugh again and played with a lock of his hair. "That we did. To each other, nonetheless."

"It's really something, all things considered," Connor shook his head and smiled. A distant expression came and went across his face. "Should we go back?"

"They won't miss us."

Connor beamed and tossed one of the comforters over us. A chill had started to settle into the ground, and it was nice to have him near me. I circled my arms around him and watched him rest his head against my chest and drift off to sleep. After I had closed my eyes and settled in, it hit me how much I wanted to have this every night for the rest of my life. Not even sex, necessarily. Just his presence. It's the sort of thing I still can't put my finger on.


	4. First 'Three Little Words'

I woke up before he did the next morning. His body was comforting and warm curled up against me, and his skin was soft to the touch. My right arm was numb from being under him the whole night, but I didn't care. What I did care about was that he hadn't had a nightmare. I wasn't woken up from him flinching or yelping. I knew that he wasn't completely alright yet, but it was a good sign.

I gave myself the liberty of watching him sleep for a few moments. (I told myself that that last night's events erased any factor of creepiness.) The slight rise and fall of his shoulders and chest was memorizing, especially with his slightly opened mouth that formed a natural pout. I felt like we could have laid there forever.

I rested my free hand on his cheek. His eyelashes brushed the tips of my fingers as he stirred and looked at me. I felt myself smiling uncontrollably, and tucked some stray hairs away from his face. We spent a quiet moment gazing silently at each other.

He gave me a half-lidded stare I didn't recognize, but was entranced by. "I probably shouldn't say this."

My thumb traced the curve of his jaw. "Please."

"I think I love you, Kevin Price."

I zoned out and tried to remember the last time someone had said that to me so earnestly. My family had each, in turn, told me they loved me before I boarded the plane to Uganda, but that was almost a year ago. And sure, Arnold and I had had some heart-to-hearts about how much we care about each other. Neither of them were the same as this.

I came back to the present when I noticed he was biting down hard on his lip. I brushed a thumb over it to soothe the swelling skin, and ran a hand through his hair. He exhaled softly and nuzzled against my cheek.

"Kevin," he murmured, "Tell me this is okay."

I took his face in my hand and stroked his jawline as I started speaking.

"This is okay. It's okay to want this and enjoy it. It always has been, and it always will be. What the church or your family or whomever thinks doesn't matter, because I love you and you love me. That's the only part that's important. You wouldn't have come this far for it to not be worth it," I smiled sheepishly, "I hope I'm worth it."

He beamed at me with tired, loving eyes. "I promise to be here for you, always."

* * *

In the following year before our mission's departure back to the States (Connor got an extension), we gradually learned an extensive amount about each other, and still continue to. I made the mistake once of assuming I was the crutch, the comforter, the shoulder to cry on. He turned out to be lightyears stronger than me, but an imbalance was never announced or noticed. We never think about who's given more or less. It really doesn't matter.

Our first night in that hole was the last one where we could take our time. The morning we got back, the hut was in an absolute panic. The missionaries practically threw themselves at Connor's feet, saying they thought lions or burglars had gotten us. He managed to send them all back to bed with pats on the head, but our absence had caused such a ruckus that we both knew we wouldn't be able to indulge like that again anytime soon.

It was annoying, having to run off in the middle of the night and come back immediately without so much more than a good night kiss. If we lingered too long, we'd fall asleep. So when we got back home and had more than enough time to expend, it was significantly easier to figure out what the other likes, and enjoy it all the while. He has sensitive spots near his ears and along his jaw, among other places. (He was stroking my lip with his thumb once and I nipped it in an attempt to be playful. I spent the rest of the hour kissing his fingers after the reaction I'd earned.) I'm much more affectionate that I'd previously thought, and half of my daytime fantasies about Connor were simply wanting to get home and hold him for a while.

We were lucky to find a thick-walled apartment to share with Arnold and Naba. I'm incapable of being quiet. If Connor didn't like it, I'd be embarrassed. I can only like the sound of my own voice so much. (I fell asleep on top of him one time. He wasn't pleased to discover that, initially.) Eventually we built up a stamina, and post-coital drowsiness became less of a factor.

There are some days, some hours, where I can't really articulate how I feel. There's no proper way to explain to him everything that goes on in my mind whenever we kiss without sounding disingenuous. It can work me into frustration, which leaves Connor confused and concerned, so I've learned to stick with the expected declarations of affection until I can figure out what my problem is.

It's because he deserves to know that makes me so angry, I think. He's been through more than enough just to be comfortable and happy with someone he loves, and I feel like I can't properly express how much I adore him. If I'm not focused on a task or deep in conversation, if I'm not distracted, my thoughts always go immediately to him. It's a little like worrying, but it's a good kind, because I'm thinking about him.

We can still do nothing but talk for hours and hours, until the sun rises. Sometimes though, he'll lay his head on my chest and listen to my heart beat while we lay together in silence, and there's something on the tip of my tongue in those moments that's bigger than "I love you," but I can't figure out what it is.


End file.
